


Katoh

by ishre_yann



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: (i am Bad at tags), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Bull's Chargers died but not for the reasons y'all think, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Lavellan Needs a Hug, M/M, Rahea Lavellan, Slow Build, Violence, What-If, bull too, i am in denial and this is what happened okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:10:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8652214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishre_yann/pseuds/ishre_yann
Summary: Lavellan did sound the retreat, but he was too slow and the Bull's Chargers couldn't make it, so Bull doesn't have anything to hold him back from the Qun and he betrays the Inquisition. It just doesn't go as Bull has expected.From the text:His breath caught in his throat, flashes of all the nights spent together, all the truths he confessed while strong hands held him and grounded him. All the safeness drained out, replaced now with a sense of foolish shame and white pain.He could feel the tears pinching the back of his eyes, pressing.The Iron Bull charged.





	

**Author's Note:**

> HIYA, so this is my first fic on Dragon Age and it's all because I just recently saw the "Iron Bull betrayal" videos on youtube and I was SO bothered by that ending that I had to do something about it. So here, have a fuckton of angst and (prolly failed) attempts to serious psychological stuff!  
> As stated in the tags, there will be smut - even if only at the end. This is the first time I write smut in English and it's not my first language, so please be patient.  
>   
> I owe a HUGE thank you to [heartsforbuck](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsforbuck/pseuds/heartsforbuck) who took the time to read and edit the whole thing, even if she's not even in the fandom. She's the best and I couldn't really ask for a better beta-reader.  
>   
> That being said, hope you like the fic! See you at the end <3

 

The Inquisitor's cockiness disappeared as soon as the Iron Bull answered to the Viddasala's call. Lavellan never questioned Bull's loyalty, not even one bit, he'd always assumed the qunari would stay by his side and fight with him. Or better, both Lavellan and Bull had put a lot of effort into avoiding _the_ main topic.

The Chargers' sacrifice had shacked Bull from his very core, although Lavellan's multiple and pointless attempts to talk about it had soon stopped. Bull made it clear, he wasn't ready to talk about it and Lavellan had learned that even patience and silence could be helpful ways of healing one's mind. So he'd waited.

 _Probably too much,_ Lavellan thought.

He'd been careless, let Bull convince him that it was okay, that he was out of it, done mourning and ready to be what he always was.

Lavellan and Bull's definition of “what I always was” must've been different. The Inquisitor was sure the qunari meant the Iron Bull but no, what he really meant was Hissrad, a Ben-Hassrath.

So when Bull replied to the Viddasala, Lavellan's blood froze in his vein, slowly.

“Understood, ma'am,” and Lavellan had stared at Vivienne with confusion, just to find the woman with the same expression on her face – though she hid it with much more experience than Lavellan's. “Sorry, _bas,_ nothing personal,” was when the Inquisitor had to dive-roll the first blow, together with Cole shouting to move and Vivienne drawing her staff out.

A light-blue aura embraced the party, except for the Iron Bull, as Vivienne set her protective barrier on them.

“Bull, what are you do-. . .” was all Lavellan could say, before the spears started raining on them.

He dodged, slipping into the shadows and disappearing to everyone's eyes. Stealth was both a curse and a blessing, for a Rogue who had to work with other members. It was difficult to coordinate with the rest of the party, especially when you were the one leading it.

Bull was shouting something in Qunlat, pointing in Lavellan's general direction and Lavellan wasn't going to wait and see what those word meant – especially not if the qunari was giving away any possible strategy.

The Inquisitor's never been easily shocked. Even after Solas disappeared, Lavellan had considered the possibility of everyone else leaving. The thing was, the proper word was that: _leaving._ Not _betraying._

He kept silent, he knew better than voicing his own thoughts while hidden. He knew the boy didn't need words to coordinate an attack, he simply flew with his blades and Lavellan's instinct. It was easy to know what to do, now that he was more spirit than human – he could feel what Lavellan wanted to do and acted accordingly.

First, they struck from the shadows – and then, they'd marked two different targets, while Cole knocked-out a bunch of qunari too far away to reach.

It was fast and painless – clean . . . well, except for the blood.

“I should have seen it, qunari,” he could hear Vivienne speaking, but didn't dare to turn.

“That makes two of us,” at least Bull was still talking, instead going all Ben-Hassrath on them.

Lavellan flanked the first enemy, slipping inside the shadows before the qunari could know where he went – behind his back, he dodged and turned again, striking once more with his daggers right through the enemy side, up to the heart – between his armour plates.

The qunari fell with a small choked sound. Lavellan could now see clearly Vivienne opposing the Iron Bull with her spirit blade, recharging her own barrier with every hit. They were almost equal, if only the Iron Bull wasn't more than a professional in his field. If Vivienne's barrier would just shatter after a bunch of minutes, she would've been long dead by now.

Lavellan's feet froze for a moment, fear and adrenaline rushing through him. He couldn't die here, he _wouldn't_ die here. He had things to take care of, an Exalted Council to attend to, people he wanted to see once more, before his hand decided it was time to kill him.

It took him too long. Lavellan caught a spear with the corner of his eye and avoided the most of it. The spear broke the barrier, which shattered all around him, wounding a bunch of qunari.

Cole was already dashing through their lines and Lavellan found himself unable to follow for the first time.

He heard a cry behind him and caught a glimpse of Vivienne being thrown away from the Iron Bull. The qunari then turned and looked right at him, and Lavellan saw nothing. Not even a trace of the same Iron Bull who used to fight along his side, with funny comments and excited – way too inappropriate – sounds.

It's been a long time, since Lavellan had panicked. He remember the first time, after he woke up from the fade – chained, powerless, held accountable for something no one could prove. And then again, when he first saw Corypheus and his supposed-archdemon, the slight comfort the others could escape and be safe.

His breath caught in his throat, flashes of all the nights spent together, all the truths he confessed while strong hands held him and grounded him. All the safeness drained out, replaced now with a sense of foolish shame and white pain.

He could feel the tears pinching the back of his eyes, pressing.

The Iron Bull charged.

“You must let him go, we can't do anything if we are dead,” he heard Cole's voice right beside him, although could not see him when he turned his head.

Lavellan slipped once again in the shadows and, in what felt like moments, evaded Bull's charge just in time to see him change his trajectory, just enough to hit something – _someone_ – in his way.

Cole was shoved against the wall, coughing blood and then falling on the hard ground.

The remaining qunari, previously knocked-out by Cole's bomb, were now starting to gain consciousness again.

Lavellan stared at them, frantically trying to find a course of action, when white clouds filled the ceiling, unleashing a cold, relentless blizzard on the warriors, followed then by a lightning.

Vivienne could hold herself upright just with the aid of her staff, her barrier still on, blood poured from her forehead as she started another spell. All around her, there were bodies of burned qunari, mixed with ice and frost.

Lavellan could only feel the slightest hint of healing energy flow through him, before his eyes could catch one of the qunari behind her, still alive, still able to move.

So he started to run, unable to be seen. He didn't have a clear shot, so he moved.

“VIVIENNE! BEHIND YOU!” he shouted, grabbing one of his knives.

Vivienne spell stopped as soon as her barrier shattered against the qunari's blow, hitting the back of her head.

Lavellan's breath froze, as he threw his knife – too late – and reaching the qunari's chest. Six shadows took the knife's shape, piercing through the qunari.

There was little time, then – to do anything else.

Lavellan screamed in pain, when a spear cut his outer thigh. He almost dropped his dagger, forced himself to reach for the second. He turned, limped – put his blades between himself and Bull's blow. He almost dodged it, but the axe crushed against his daggers – tore them away from Lavellan's hands.

Lavellan lost balance, falling on the ground – breathing hard, unable to do anything but use his leg and his hands to drag himself away from Bull.

The Iron Bull— no, _Hissrad_ was looking at him with a grim expression, settling his war axe on his right shoulder.

“Bull— . . .” Lavellan coughed. And the Iron Bull didn't reply.

Lavellan stretched his arm, trying to reach one of his daggers – the closer one. He didn't make it. One second, his fingers only almost touched the dagger's grip and then the Iron Bull pulled him by his wounded leg with no kindness.

The Inquisitor cried out.

Frantically, he tried to reach for the healing potions on his belt, but Bull's hand was on his wrists too, keeping them still with raw force so he could grab Lavellan's belt and yanked hard, tearing it away. Lavellan could only jerk and stare as Bull threw the belt behind himself with no care, out of Lavellan's reach. Some of the flasks broke, red and orange liquid poured on the floor.

Lavellan's breath was short, fast, broken. He couldn't master his mind, now wrapped on jarring images. Everything was happening too fast, too sudden to make any sense. For a moment, Bull almost seemed as any other qunari he'd met along the way, through the eluvians.

“Please,” he breathed, desperate. His thigh was screaming in pain, his trousers were wet with dark and sticky blood.

_You know the word, kadan._

This wasn't the Iron Bull. This was _not_ the man he'd seen at the Storm Coast and then at Heaven and then again at Skyhold's tavern, cheering and annoying his men with bad jokes and loud laughs.

_If you want me to stop, you say 'katoh', no questions asked._

He couldn't stop thinking about that, single moment. When Bull gave the order to retreat, sounding the horn and receiving no response.

 _Crumbling, shaking, fighting. We won't make it. It's inevitable, they know it. Will Chief miss me? Fear. Blood. So tired. No, he knows. He sounded the retreat. He cares. He truly_ _cares._

Lavellan closed his eyes, only to open them again – blinking in confusion. He looked at Bull and saw nothing. Only empty blackness in his eye. Something he didn't recognize. Whoever that was, it surely wasn't the Iron Bull.

 _This is not him,_ he repeated. _This is_ _not_ _the Iron Bull._

Bull raised his axe, his armour plates shifted to allow the movement just enough so Lavellan could see it.

_Everyone, if I ever get possessed, feint on my blind side, then go low. Cullen says I leave myself open._

Nausea grew in his stomach. Sick, that's what it was. Bull couldn't possibly _think_ he'd use such a thing to survive. It revolted him, to think that Bull could mistake him for such a person.

He's hated leaving Straud behind in the Fade. He couldn't do this. Not now, not ever. Not after all that had happened. So he raised his arms, as if that alone could stop Bull's blow.

“Katoh,” he whispered, hiding his head behind his forearms. _“Katoh.”_

His body was aching, he couldn't hear properly what happened all around him, but he swore he heard Qunlat – from someone else he did not recognize – before Bull's cry broke the silence.

Lavellan froze when something hit the ground hard, couching on his side, waiting for the final blow.

And as minutes passed and nothing happened, he dared opening his eyes.

A qunari laid on the ground, Bull's war axe had broken one of his horns just to end up planted in his skull and torn it open.

Adrenaline flew in him, as Lavellan turned again. He didn't know what to expect – did not dare to even think of anything. His mind was a blank sheet – his head felt cold and still, frozen and emptied of everything. So when he found Bull sitting on the ground, hands on his face, the only thing he could think about was dragging himself as far from the qunari as he could.

Lavellan's fingers hit the blade of his dagger, a small cut that startled him and also helped him to think clearly. He grabbed it, holding on to it with all his strength. His eyes darted through the room, looking for Cole and Vivienne. He couldn't see in what state their bodies were from where he sat, so he looked for their belts instead.

He could see Cole's, but to reach him meant he should've passed near Bull and he didn't want that.

The Iron Bull was still and silent, breathing, untouched. Only an echo of his solid presence.

Lavellan leaned against the wall, using it to stand. It wasn't easy, but eventually he could walk – painful and difficult as it was, but still walk.

He limped towards the stairs, never leaving his dagger.

Vivienne wasn't far away, but he still fell on his knees after two steps without any support – cried out in pain when his thigh shook due to the impact. It was clear he couldn't move his right leg properly. His vision darkened for a moment, panic forced him to search her body for healing potions – and when he found them, he hastily drank one. His hands were shaking so much that he could only drink a portion of it, before spilling it all over himself.

His wound – at least – stopped bleeding, but his head was still light and he couldn't really move properly. He kept checking all around himself for any other movements – for Bull to be where he left it moments before.

Once he was sure nothing moved, he took another potion and poured its liquid inside Vivienne's mouth.

The knight-enchantress coughed twice, before opening her eyes with a grimace.

When she saw Lavellan's face, she smiled.

“Glad to see you're still alive, dear,” she said, sitting down properly and massaging her head.

Bull didn't escape her gaze. As soon as Vivienne found him, she gave Lavellan a curious look.

“I suppose you wish me to heal the demon, too,” she said then, standing up and helping Lavellan too.

Vivienne reached for her lyrium and drank the entire potion, before moving her hands. Green flashes of light poured through her and Lavellan's body. On the upper floor, Cole exhaled a groan, before Lavellan could see him standing upright.

“What . . . happened?” Cole asked, his eyes finding the Iron Bull as fast as Vivienne's.

“We were tricked, demon. You should know better. It is, after all, what your kind does.”

“Enough,” Lavellan said. “We don't have time for this.”

Both Vivienne and Cole waited for him. Lavellan knew he wasn't moving, but he couldn't stop staring at the Iron Bull and simply stay still.

Bull had now his arms rested on his knees, his head was bowed as if he was caged and chained. The qunari hadn't move or talked once.

“Shame, fear, chaos. I can't go on like this. He hesitated. Shaking. Praying. Screaming. Not Hissrad, nor the Iron Bull. It didn't work. There's . . . two people, but they're not good enough anymore. It doesn't fit anymore. Wounds of the soul. He knew how to heal them. He did it for him, but can't do it for himself. Screaming, banging, fearing. Katoh. There's a different shape now to fill but it doesn't know how. Katoh. _Katoh.”_

Lavellan closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Dear, I know this is hard for you, but we must move on or not only the three us will discover what this Dragon's Breath is – and I am sure it will not be pretty,” Vivienne said.

She reached for Lavellan's shoulder, although the Inquisitor knew better that to ask comfort from someone like her. Vivienne was unable to give anything similar to emotional closure, let alone physical.

In a way, Lavellan was grateful for her detached and professional behaviour. It gave him something to imitate when he didn't feel like he could keep everything under control.

“I know, I'm working on it,” he answered, stalking forward and up the stairs.

Cole was staring and Lavellan knew he'd be listening to some intricate thoughts of his if he didn't interrupt the kid fast.

“Not now, Cole.”

“But he hurt you,” the boy said.

“Yes, and that's why we need to do something about it,” Lavellan said.

Cole hesitated – he didn't buy it and both him and Lavellan knew it. Vivienne at least faked believing him.

“You can't cast it aside, it will eat you from the inside and kill you.”

“What am I supposed to do, Cole?” Lavellan said, his patience wore thin. “Sit here and talk myself through it while the Viddasala carries out her plans?”

Cole didn't reply at that.

“Speaking of which, we should find a way to contact Blackwall, he is our only option and we need him if we want to continue and hope to be successful,” Vivienne said, brushing her robes with her hands. “Filthy creatures, look what they've done,” she muttered under her breath, as she discovered part of the tissue was torn.

“We can't go back, it'd take too much time,” Lavellan said, grabbing his other dagger and sheathing it.

“If I may add, should we speak of this _after_ we killed this traitor?” Vivienne said.

Everyone looked at the Iron Bull, still sitting, still unmoving. Lavellan didn't dare to speak his mind.

“Can't kill him. Can't let him alive. Torn apart, it catches and doesn't let go. If he pulls too strong it will tear off. It's bound and cannot be undone. Lost. It can't be found again. I need answers. He shouldn't have done it. He shouldn't have-”

“I said _enough,_ Cole.” Lavellan choked, tearing his eyes from the Iron Bull.

“I'm sorry, I'm . . . sorry.”

He knew it wasn't Cole's fault. Sometimes it was stronger than him – and Lavellan's head was loud enough to get to him. Delusion left its place to anger, just to see it become annoyance.

“You got nothing to say?” Lavellan's words were bitter. “Nothing.”

He stared down at the Iron Bull.

“You should kill me,” was his answer – although Lavellan knew better it wasn't from guilt, but from cold logic.

“I think you owe me more than a death, _Hissrad,”_ Lavellan blurted out.

“You can not possibly _think_ we can let him live, my dear,” Vivienne said.

“But he hurt us! He hurt _you,_ you can't let him keep hurting you!” Cole said with a hurried tone.

“I can and I really think I will, actually,” Lavellan said. “This is not over and I _will_ have answers.”

Vivienne pulled a face, but eventually sighed and let go. It wasn't the first time they disagreed with his course of action, but he was positive they'd follow his direct order. Questioning was never a problem, in the Inquisitor presence, he's always allowed it.

“You won't have an easy way out of this, Bull. Not this time. Sylaise mark me, it's the last thing I do.”

Bull looked up for the first time and did nothing but watch. Lavellan held his gaze for as long as he could, before Cole knocked Bull.

* * *

It took more than expected, finding chains to tie Bull down and then freeing an _actual_ dragon. They sent a message through the eluvians. They were half through the fight, before Blackwall showed up in full gear, cutting down enemies and helping them with the Sarebaas.

Solas – or better, Fen'harel – was more than enough for Lavellan's day.

They say they found him on the ground, unconscious, his forearm missing. Whatever Solas did, it had also closed the wound, leaving only a stump.

Dorian was the first person Lavellan saw when he woke up, sore and worn out.

“I'm sorry,” was everything Dorian said.

Lavellan didn't feel like talking and he was grateful Dorian understood and respected his silence.

“Don't,” was the only thing Lavellan said when Dorian was about to stand up.

“I'm not going anywhere, but you must be hungry – or at least thirsty,” Dorian said. “And you need to recover – the Council is already fussing over us for keeping you here.”

“I need to go.”

“Now now, the world has been saved, I'm sure they can have dinner without you for another day. Besides, lady Montilyet has everything under control and Cullen won't let anyone pass, if not your servants,” Dorian said. “It's only a matter of hours and then they'll let you do whatever you want to.”

“How long have I been unconscious?”

“A day, but you were awake by time to time. Though you weren't exactly speaking common tongue, so I doubt you were clear headed.”

“Where's-”

“Caged and guarded, you needn't worry my friend, I told you.”

Lavellan settled, silently.

“Some water will do,” he breathed.

Dorian smiled, straightened his posture and nodded, opening the door to address the servants outside.

* * *

No one spoke of the Inquisitor's arm, although Solas was on the tongue of everyone of Lavellan's inner circle and closest companions.

With the Inquisition disbanded, Leliana offered them a safe place where to go, keeping Bull in custody under the Divine direct order.

Even though Cullen promised to aid them, everyone knew they wouldn't ask more of him than what he already gave to the Inquisition.

Sera kept Lavellan's mind occupied with Red Jenny's Friends. He was grateful she asked him to join the Friends. And if it meant having more scars, then he didn't mind the thrill of being nobody again. Still, it wasn't unusual for people to recognize him and for word to spread, that the Inquisitor maybe didn't really gave up on the Inquisition. That maybe Red Jenny was actually something far more powerful than just an idea.

Now that death wasn't as forthcoming as it seemed, Lavellan could take his time and decide what to do with the Iron Bull. He both couldn't find the strength to face the man again and knew he had to prove himself he could go on without the qunari. And yet, he was still afraid to find that emptiness, to know the Iron Bull never truly felt the same towards him.

It was Varric who helped him make up his mind.

“Either kill him or help him. I know you're angry at him, but this is not how you'll fix it. He's already a nobody, he can't not exist more than he does now. And the Qun allows suicide, he knows it and he still hadn't even tried to do it.”

“He can't kill himself because we gave him nothing he could kill himself with, Varric.”

“Yeah, sure. I don't know about you, but to me it feels like he's got something to atone for.”

Heavy steps guided him down the stairs of Leliana's safe place – which turned out to be small isolated mansion. Far away from the noisy cities. Lavellan was grateful for it.

He hadn't seen Bull since the Darvaarad – it has been almost two week now, if not more. Leliana's men made sure Bull wasn't near the Inquisitor, by the time they moved to their new base.

The guards left as soon as he entered the small hall.

Six prisons, three on each side, a small table and a bunch of stools was all inside the hall. Lavellan moved silent steps, inching closer to Bull's cell. He didn't step too close – he knew what the Ben-Hassrath was capable of. He would not have been tricked again.

“Hey boss,” Bull's voice was rough and low.

Lavellan's chest tightened to the man in front of him. He looked at him, but said nothing.

The Iron Bull was still massive, even if Lavellan knew he's been eating less. What was once a solid wall, something he could rely on, was now crumbled debris, sitting in a corner with nothing but his old trousers and boots.

Bull took his time, before sighing and facing Lavellan. His eye didn't betray anything, if not hesitation and slight confusion when he noticed the Inquisitor's arm.

Lavellan's clothes were simple, but warm and comfortable. Where the arm was missing, a tailor had cut the fabric and sewed. It was more than obvious something was missing.

“Hello, Bull,” he said.

Bull didn't reply – he was still staring at Lavellan's left arm. Luckily for him, Lavellan had time to practice uneasiness, when more than one servant would stare or check his stump once in a while.

“So you're not gonna die, after all,” Bull said, drawing back his eye to the Inquisitor's.

“No, Bull, not any time soon.”

“I'm Hissrad, boss, you should know it.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Lavellan said. “I'm not here to dwell on it.” He walked by the table and grabbed a stool. He knew it wouldn't be easy, he knew this would've taken a long time. So he might as well make himself comfortable.

“But that's the answer you're looking for, boss. Why I did it.”

“Is it, now?” Lavellan asked.

“I can't tell you what you wanna hear, boss.”

Lavellan smiled, bitter. “Only what I need,” _isn't that right, Bull?_

Bull returned the smile, before his face went blank again. “So what are you here for, boss?”

Lavellan took a deep breath. He's been thinking about it, about what he wanted to go and what he needed to do. But he's never really found an answer that didn't concern Bull's well being.

“I'm here to apologize.”

At that, Bull's eyebrows knitted together.

“I should've pushed more to talk about the Chargers and what happened, what _really_ happened there. Make things right and not . . . not that hit-me-with-a-stick bullshit.”

Bull's expression hardened. Lavellan knew that reaction, but now there was nothing Bull could say to make him stop.

“They were your family and all you did to mourn their loss was toss their ashes down the valley.”

“The Qun does not see death as you see it.”

“And yet, you had to do something about it, didn't you?”

Silence.

Lavellan took it as a go. “What would you have done, Bull? If you did kill me, what then? Would you have gone back to the re-educators? Forget anything happened?”

“Probably? Who knows,” Bull said.

“So you would just leave Krem and the others behind, forget they were important to you, pretend you didn't care for them and that you don't feel guilty for their death-”

“You really think you know me, boss?”

“You remember what you told me? About Cassandra and why she couldn't lead the Inquisition, how it needed someone who could see the big picture and make hard decisions,” Lavellan said. “I think I let the big picture be more important than you and your 'I'm fine, boss' speeches.”

Bull didn't reply.

“Are you still looking for the answers yourself, Bull?” Lavellan asked.

“Maybe sometimes there's no answers, boss,” Bull said.

“Or maybe you just don't wanna look for them where you can really find them.”

“Alright, Rahea, what do you want me to do here, exactly?” Bull blurted out.

“I don't want you to do anything, Bull. You wouldn't let me help back then, why should you want me to help now?”

Bull stilled for a second. His face relaxed together with his posture. Lavellan raised an eyebrow.

“You'd make a perfect Ben-Hassrath, you just need a bit of training . . . some direction, you know?”

Lavellan sighed, before changing his posture again on his seat. He didn't really know what he was doing – he wasn't as good at this as Bull was. It was difficult and he really couldn't find a way to get through like Bull did with him – like Bull told him he did with a lot of people.

“Look, I know what you're doing and it won't work,” Bull added.

 _Yeah, maybe it'd be easier if we exchanged roles._ Lavellan smiled, apologetically.

Bull stared at him – nothingness on his face. No more rage, no more sadness, no more hostility. Then, he said, “Apology accepted, boss.”

A mix of confusion and uneasiness ran through Lavellan. He didn't reply – not right away, at least. There still was something wrong, still something he couldn't wrap his mind around.

Then, it hit him. “I don't believe it.”

“What, that I'm not angry at you?”

“That you were never the Iron Bull,” Lavellan said.

Silence. Bull looked like he was about to say something, but didn't. He kept silent, then grimaced and averted his eye.

So Lavellan kept going. “Maybe not after the Chargers died, but you were someone – and you still are, somewhere deep down probably. You just don't know how to be that person once again.”

“Boss.”

“And the Qun would do that for you, right? They'd give you the answers you look for – make it easier. No questions asked, only blind truths.”

Bull reacted – or maybe it was Lavellan's mind playing tricks on him. A small tic – tight fists, low gaze and his brow furrowed for a second, before relaxing again. Bull's body was tense, contracted.

“I won't. If there's a thing the Iron Bull taught me, is that I can be myself only if I really fight for it,” Lavellan continued. He knew how these things could end up. He could either heal or tear more open the wounds. All it took was one, single mistake.

“And you're not fighting now, Bull. You gave up on me, on Krem, on the Chargers, but more importantly, you gave up on yourself. And I won't allow that,” Lavellan said. “I can't allow that, Bull.”

Bull was looking at him with something resembling anger – and Lavellan would normally apologize, if only it weren't exactly the reaction he wanted. He had to, he needed to. For both his and Bull's sake.

He waited for a bit, and then let out a soft breath. “I'm sorry we couldn't save them, for all it's worth,” he said.

“And yet you still accepted the alliance,” Bull spat.

“I did.”

“Then why are we still talking about it?”

“Because I broke it as soon as Corypheus was defeated,” Lavellan said. “I know it's not enough, and I know nothing will ever be enough.” He stopped, took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He knew it'd be like showing Bull his weak spot – but then, would that really matter? Bull already knew so much he could easily hurt him as much as he wanted.

“I should've given the order sooner, should've known better. They would've had time to retreat and we wouldn't be here now, would we,” he said – but didn't really toned it as a question. “But I didn't and Krem died – and I don't care what you say, I know who’s to blame is and it's your right to feel the same way."

Bull didn't answer.

“You know it's true. The Qun should've double-checked and I should've been faster,” Lavellan said.

Silence was another option. Lavellan's never minded silence. Still, he'd hoped for something more. Something more than indifference.

He knew the Iron Bull was just faking everything. This was another mask Lavellan had to break to get to the real core. Bull wore a lot of selves, a lot of sides – and that was why it was difficult to get to him.

“There's a way of speaking among my people. _Souver'inan isala hamin,”_ Lavellan said, suddenly.

“What's it mean,” Bull said – although it really didn't sound like a question.

“Weary eyes need resting,” Lavellan said.

Bull didn't answer. Lavellan waited for something, again, gave Bull enough time and space to add something.

When it was clear Bull wasn't going to answer, Lavellan stood up, brushed his clothes and walked away.

“ _Dirthara ma,_ the Iron Bull,” he said, before calling the guards back to their post.

* * *

“You really want to help him?”

Cole was sitting on the window, looking at the countryside. He wore simple clothes and his usual hat. Everyone left, except for him and Sera. Varric had to go back to Kirkwall, Cassandra was rebuilding the Seekers, Blackwall was helping the Grey Wardens and Vivienne had eventually to take back her place at court, as Dorian had to replace his father's seat in the Magisterium.

Lavellan held Dorian's crystal close. They used it a bunch of time since Dorian left, the first one to be sure it worked and the second one because both he and Dorian needed distraction.

“Yes, Cole, I owe him that much,” Lavellan said.

“He would've hurt more people, if we died.”

“I know. You don't have to do it if you don't want to, I was just asking.”

Cole looked at him. Lavellan couldn't stand Compassion, sometimes. It was worst than acceptance, sometimes.

“Lingering, soft touches, trusted. He never used it against me. Strong, alone, resilient – tearing, teasing, how long before it stretches, it cuts? He was the anchor and I was the ship. He sinks down into the abyss so they won't do it alone. Cold, metal, bitter – it scratches wrists and ankles. It's so cold down there. Can an anchor still be an anchor if all it drags down is itself? Doesn't work. It doesn't _work_ – frantic, lost and all it can do is wander and wait. How can I make it work?”

Lavellan kept silent. He asked for Cole's help, he couldn't complain if the spirit had to roam his mind to be able to.

“If you think so, I will help,” Cole said, eventually. “But he must forget me as soon as we're done.”

Lavellan nodded. “Thank you, Cole.”

“It's okay, I guess. At least I can help you too, this way.”

Lavellan smiled, bitterly. They kept quiet inside the dining room, listening to the small sounds, building castles with cards when Cole was tired of playing Wicked Grace.

* * *

When Lavellan offered Cole a stool and the spirit refused just to sit on the hard ground. The Iron Bull was standing today, his horns showed scratches – as well as the walls around him.

“Definitely suitable for the Ben-Hassrath,” Bull bitterly said as he looked down at Cole.

“Lost between two worlds. Can't be found. Won't be found. They can't _see_ him – they _can't_ see him. Wandering, wondering – where, where? Still here, why is he still here? Should've died, should've killed him. Him or me. Smothering ashes, hands, ghosts. They can still reach and take everything they want. No, not again. You won't have it.”

Cole's gaze was lost on Bull's body. Sometimes Lavellan wished he could read people as Compassion did. But then, he only wanted to read Bull's pain so he could know what to say, how to heal what was hurt – he couldn't possibly deal with anyone else's pain.

“Demon crap,” the Iron Bull blurted out.

“You know his name is Cole,” the Inquisitor said. “Or Compassion, if you really must.”

“I like Cole, it makes me more real – less . . . unknown. They fear what's unknown. Demons are frightening because they shape themselves wrong – to fill something unknown to them too. And now I can never be one, the Iron Bull, you know that . . . Didn't you know that, the Iron Bull? The Inquisitor and Solas helped me.”

If Lavellan was honest, he didn't want Cole there only so he could help with Bull. It was of some sort of solace, to have someone else with him.

Alas, it was true; the Inquisitor was lonely – even though he didn't really showed it. Alas, the Inquisitor was just as alive as anyone else on this world – he missed just as anyone else.

Without Bull, he only had his training sessions with Leliana's agents that kept him company – Sera's random trips didn't really count. Anything else was planning a way to stop Fen'harel and keep Lavellan's mind occupied as much as he could before going to sleep – hoping he would be able to.

“Demon. Crap.” Bull repeated. “That was my idea, by the way.”

“And I made it work,” Lavellan said – another bitter smile showing on his face.

“I'm not doing this so you can use it in the future. I'm no interrogator. I heal what's hurt – not every prisoner needs healing,” Cole said, almost in a rush.

Bull didn't reply, he just kept staring at them – and now he was clearly annoyed by the sudden change in Lavellan's course of action. After days and days of arguing, he didn't expect Lavellan to bring someone else along. Especially not Cole.

It was a conversation too personal for anyone to hear.

“He wants to help you, the Iron Bull. And yet you refused him. Why?” Cole asked.

Bull didn't answer.

“Hiding, running, it still chases. Doesn't stop. A blow for every wall. Stay away from my head-”

“What the fuck do you want from me, _bas?”_ Bull snapped. “Why are you doing this?”

Cole stilled, but kept silent and watched as the Inquisitor raised from his seat.

“Look at yourself, Bull,” he said, inching closer to the bars. “Tell me this is really who you want to be and I'll stop.”

“Hurting, moulding – it burns and it wants and it expects. Hot hands, they want me like this, they made me like this. They use the heat so the metal won't break. It hurts until it has the shape they want. Only they see the shape and it has to fill it – scraping, screaming, banging. Let me out. Prayers, they don't pray like I do. I never wanted this – no, wrong, wicked, wayward. It should've stayed unreal. False and then real – he never wanted this either-”

“Stop,” Bull snapped – he stood closer to the bars, now.

“Sneaking, crawling, it rattles until it finds his walls. Echoes came back, but they aren't replies. He cannot believe them, cannot trust them. Kadan, a choice I make every day. Unknowing, uncertain, afraid. Will it be there tomorrow? _They_ put it there so they could match its shapes-”

“STOP!” Bull roared, banging hard his fists against the bars.

Lavellan raised a hand and Cole waited.

Bull breathed, heavy and tired. “Stop.”

“You can still be the Iron Bull,” Lavellan said. “You still are, for some of us.”

“It can still heal, the Iron Bull,” Cole added. “You don't trust us, but you don't trust the Qun either.”

“I don't know anything – I can only imagine how hard it must be. But you can still be yourself,” Lavellan said. “You were never Hissrad. The fact that you were going to _ask_ for the re-educators isn't enough for you?”

Bull looked at him. His eye betrayed now something far and distant. Pain – that was all Lavellan could see, before Bull took it away. “I can't be the Iron Bull anymore. They're not here. You're not really here.”

“Cruel, furious, compassionate . . . no, he won't!” Cole said. “Why would he help you heal just to cast you aside?”

Lavellan averted his eyes just to look at Cole, didn't dare to open his mouth.

“Look more closely, Cole,” Bull said.

“You _hurt_ him, the Iron Bull. You hurt every one of us. They don't want to be too close to you. _I_ don't want to – but I can help him too, if I do this.”

“And that makes two birds with one stone. Huh, it figures,” Bull said.

“Can't do something, can't do nothing. Stretching, jerking, reaching – it tears itself apart until it's free. I owe him that much. Heavy, alone, lost and unable to be found. He knew the way and now he's gone. Far away and yet so close. Hurting, suffocating, crushing. Reach for it, but not too much – throat strangled, it can't go much further. Can't go back, too-”

“Cole,” Lavellan interrupted, swallowing hard – unable to calm his unsteady breaths. He didn't need another breakdown – not in front of Bull.

“What will you do, once you're satisfied with whatever result you have here?” Bull asked.

Lavellan could feel his presence behind him. The bars wouldn't normally hold the Iron Bull back – the qunari himself was making sure he couldn't hurt them. He wasn't opposing any resistance.

“I don't know.”

“At least you're honest about it,” Bull breathed. “Why are you really doing this, boss?”

Lavellan hesitated. It hurt to admit it, but he learned it hurt even more to keep it inside. _“Ar isalan na,_ Bull,” he mumbled hastily. He already felt like choking. He closed his eyes.

_It's too easy to mistake you for the Inquisitor._

“I don't speak Solas-ish, boss,” Bull said after a moment of silence.

Lavellan blinked, just to discover that Cole had disappeared again. The spirit was probably still there, he just didn't wish to be seen. It would creep him out, to know that, but then he found his mind slipping – as if he wasn't even sure anymore Cole was there the entire time.

He didn't hold on to the thought. For once, he was happy to let it go and let Cole be invisible as he wanted.

“You remember what you told me the first time?” Lavellan asked, turning so he could face the Iron Bull again.

Bull almost smiled, but it fainted away just as any hint of liveliness. “When you care for someone, you give them what they need – not what they want.”

“This is your field of expertise – am I wrong?”

Bull rested a hand on the back of his neck, massaging the muscles.

_Soft touches, lingering, tracing the skin. 'Does it hurt?' he asks – silky, sweet, feverish. Massaging, he leans on – delicate laughs. Happy – so happy the heart can't take it. It softens and soothe, dark circles – this is mine. Lips and teeth, scraping, playing – playful._

“No.”

Lavellan's heart sinks deep down when he hears Bull's voice, but he forces himself to take a small breath. “So help me help you.”

“You can't help me, k— . . . boss – I made my choice and I can't let you indulge me for it as you did with Blackwall. And I know you do it because you care – and you think it's alright, since you're doing it for those you care about. But it's not. You're not something to toy with. You have limits and I crossed them – you _can't_ do this to yourself. I won't let you do this.”

_Katoh, kadan – the blade didn't stop. It wanted to go. Couldn't think, couldn't rest, couldn't do it._

The Iron Bull tightened his fists and Lavellan lost track of the qunari eye, hidden by his eyelid. Bull turned then, leaned with his side against the wall and crossed his arms. Lavellan could only see his broad shoulders, shaken by shallow breaths.

“I know, Bull. I know my limits and . . . I don't know if I can really forgive you- I don't know – and I don't want to know it, if I'm really not going to. I- I can't . . .” Lavellan breath caught – he stopped and turned, tried to breathe and failed.

Bull only lowered his head.

It took Lavellan some time, before he could find again where he was going. A deep breath and he went on. “But I also know you did more than anyone else for me and that . . . you can't erase that either.”

Bull didn't answer.

“I want to do the same, Bull, no matter what happens next.”

Silence.

Lavellan waited – and waited, and waited. Minutes passed and Bull didn't answer, didn't open his eye, didn't turn.

He sighed when it was obvious Bull wouldn't answer. He thought about saying something more, but he didn't in the end – not even when he closed the door behind his back and called the guards.

* * *

“Leliana – oh my, I should really start calling her Divine Victoria, shouldn't I? – well, she and I are worried about you, that's really just it!” Dorian's voice echoed from Lavellan's crystal.

Lavellan was fascinated by magic – no matter what Vivienne and Sera said, Lavellan was sure it was part of whatever future the world was walking in.

“Since when did you two— . . . no, I don't wanna know the answer to that,” Lavellan said – he didn't really want to talk about anything else but triviality, if he had to be honest.

Dorian'd always been quick, so he chuckled. “You must be joking – his Worship, jealous? My, my, what will happen next? Tevinter will free all elven slaves and I'll have to live in your mansion in Kirkwall?”

“Magister Pavus, you wound me,” Lavellan said – a soft smile curving his lips.

“You know, if every Dalish was like you, I bet the world would be a better place,” the crystal lit up, when Dorian spoke.

“If every Dalish was like me, Fen'harel would have a stroke and I wouldn't be here, dwelling on how to stop him.”

Dorian laughed at that. “Wouldn't be the first demigod who falls victim to your murderous intents, my dear friend.”

Lavellan sighed. _“We_ killed two demigods, Dorian. And you were even there, when it happened.”

“And a dozen of dragons, if I may add,” Dorian said. “And let's not forget who really gave the final blow to Corypheus' dragon, now. I'm pretty sure it was a white-haired elf with a pair of shiny daggers – can't really remember his name though.”

“Really? That was one time.”

“Thank the Maker, Andraste and the Black Divine – what would people say if you were even more _Inquisitorious_ than what you already look like! It's a miracle they didn't start running and screaming as soon as everyone knew you became an assassin!”

Lavellan rolled his eyes. “I didn't kill that many things, come on . . .”

“You're drunk, aren't you?”

“Maybe,” Lavellan smirked.

He didn't drink anything too strong – he really wasn't the type. Clan Lavellan never had anything but what the nature gave to them, so he mostly drank water. But sometimes, especially after Varric forced him (well, Lavellan actually enjoyed it) to play Wicked Grace.

“And I'm not there. Visshante kaffas, Dorian goes back to Tevinter and everyone starts having fun – why is that?”

“Someone must take your place, in your absence, I'm just doing it for the greater good.”

Dorian cackled, louder this time. “Oh, you really miss the finesse, my friend. Although you might be my best choice – I can't see anyone who could really take my place . . . my _fashionable_ place.”

“No, I won't put on _those_ robes you sent me, I'm an amputee, not retired.”

“You are _no_ fun . . . And what's that supposed to mean, now?”

“It means I like my trousers just fine, Dorian.”

Dorian sighed. “Guess one can't have everything, can they?” he asked, resigned.

Lavellan chuckled, nodding – even though he knew Dorian couldn't see him. “I'll leave you to your . . . Magister stuff now, I need to sleep. Thank you for the time, Dorian.”

“Any time you want, my friend. Every time you want,” and then the crystal went dark.

Lavellan put his crystal in his pocket and kept walking the mansion's corridors. Leliana said it would've been a small place in the Hinterlands, but this was almost as vast as one of Skyhold's floors. So it took him a while to reach his chambers – it was a small price to pay to be left alone from the other recruits who still pledged allegiance to Divine Victoria. It was small, but effective – they had to be.

Solas knew them way too much for Lavellan to allow any other information to leak through networks of spies. Even Leliana couldn't manage everything that happened outside her own network.

Ferelden had dark and silent nights, turned out – and Lavellan found himself very often thinking of how it would've been to go back home, to his Clan.

Would the keeper welcome him back? Would they look at his missing arm with pity or disappointment? He couldn't tell, although he received crows every now and then, from people he met briefly and people who knew him better than most could tell.

There were guards posted at the corner of his corridor – not too far away from his room, neither too close. They were there because Leliana wanted him to be safe – paranoid as she was, he didn't dare to say no. He didn't reply their salute when he passed past them. He really wasn't in the mood to say or do anything, if he was honest.

As soon as the door was within reach, he opened it and then closed it behind his back. Being in his room alone was the only thing he could do now that almost felt like being with Bull was. It wasn't the safe space the qunari had created for the two of them, but it wasn't the outer world either.

It was a shock when rough hands grabbed him and dragged him backwards – one against his chest and the other on his mouth. Lavellan's eyes widened – his senses now more alert than before.

He'd let his guard down.

“Trust me, please,” a hastily whisper. Panic flew in him, when he recognized the Iron Bull's voice.

How did he escape? When . . .

The door opened once more and two guards entered the room. They were dressed up as Leliana's agents, although one of them looked familiar – more than familiar.

“Thought you could hold him down there forever, did you?” Gatt said, uncovering his head and smiling at Lavellan. “The Qun does not abandon his own kin, _bas.”_

The Iron Bull kept still and silent, while Gatt and the second elf checked the room.

“You're the wounded part, Hissrad – I'll let you decide, this time. For old time's sake,” Gatt said, unfolding a knife from his belt.

“ _Teth a,_ Gatt,” Bull said.

Gatt raised an eyebrow, while the other elf stopped and looked right at the Iron Bull.

Lavellan could feel Bull's grip better now – it wasn't the same way he grabbed Lavellan at the Darvaarad. This was something familiar, painfully close to how Bull would ground him and embrace him with his arms, hiding him from everything else.

“Not this again, Hissrad, you know the Ben-Hassrath's patience isn't never ending,” Gatt said – his expression dark and his body tense.

“You knew my answer, Gatt, so as the Qun did,” Bull said and then moved Lavellan behind himself, shielding him with his own body.

“What's going on?” Lavellan asked, reaching for his knife. He always had a bunch – never travelled without anything, ever.

“They're here to bring me back, boss, and kill you,” Bull said.

Lavellan grumbled softly. That wasn't the answer he was looking for and Bull knew it.

“Don't do this, Hissrad,” Gatt said, drawing his daggers.

Bull grimaced – hesitated, and then took a deep breath. “My name is the Iron Bull.”

Gatt backed away two steps as well as the Iron Bull corrected his posture. They stared into each other's eyes and then Gatt said _“Meravas, Tal-Vashoth.”_

Lavellan was ready to throw his blade, but Bull's hand was suddenly in his way. He hadn't a clear shot – and neither did the other two elves.

Bull leaned forward, charging the both Gatt and the other elf. Gatt was fast, probably even knew what Bull was capable of. The other one, though, was pushed hard against the wall – and left there, slowly sliding down on the ground.

Gatt was on Bull before he could turn. The qunari wasn't wearing any armour, only his own skin – and was fast enough that Gatt's blade only sliced his shoulder.

Where the Iron Bull lacked in reflexes, Gatt was more than sneaky. The elf stabbed Bull a bunch of times, before the qunari could get a hold of his first dagger and tear it from his grip, tossing it away from Gatt.

Lavellan moved, fast – he put his knife back in his holster and leaned so he could grab the dagger instead. Gatt acknowledged his movements, but did nothing except grimace. Bull was blocking his way and he had just lost a weapon.

“You won't survive this, Tal-Vashoth,” Gatt said, his breath uneven and harsh.

“Neither will you, believe me,” Bull replied, tired, but confident.

Lavellan couldn't do anything, if not wait for the right moment to strike – he knew Bull couldn't really do much in those conditions. Too much time spent in a cell was a risk, for anyone with Bull's body.

So when Gatt and Bull lost their balance, Lavellan sprinted and places himself between Bull and Gatt.

“Out of the way, Inquisitor, you'll have your time,” Gatt roared, forced to back away when Lavellan kicked him hard.

“I can kill you even with just a hand, Gatt,” Lavellan snarled at the elf. “I don't need one against you.”

Gatt shouted, hurling towards him. Their blades met one, two, three times. Lavellan was grateful for his training now – to know how to manage a fight without a blade was difficult, he had to pay attention to so much more than his side.

Eventually, Gatt was thrown away by Bull's kick. He flew against the wall, way too near a window. Lavellan dropped his weapon, his hand shaking so badly he didn't even realized it was pure luck he fought for so long.

He breathed hard, looking at Bull and finding him as worn out as he was.

Then, a blade flew past them, sinking down Bull's shoulder.

Lavellan couldn't was reaching for his knife when the second elf threw himself up Bull's back, waving another knife in his free hand. Bull tried to shake him down, but the elf used the first knife as a grip, holding on to it and tearing Bull's flesh even more.

Bull cried out in pain, before roaring and grabbing the elf for his arm and pulling.

The elf was about to stab the qunari right in the neck, when Lavellan threw his blade.

The knife sank down, near the elf spine. A low groan and the young man dropped on the floor. Bull reached for the knife on his shoulder – unable to properly remove it, he cursed and turned, smashing his book against the elf face.

Lavellan draw another knife and, before the Iron Bull could do any more damage, he sliced the elf throat, leaving him on the floor.

Kneeled on the ground, Lavellan raised his head to see Bull facing Gatt.

A punch. “Wake up,” the Iron Bull said.

As soon as Gatt opened his eyes, Bull lifted him by his collar, pinning the man against the wall. “Tell the Qun I'm done fixing up their mistakes,” he spat before leaving Gatt.

Gatt fell, coughing and spitting blood. He gave Bull another hateful glare, before limping near the window and opening it.

“The Qun does not make mistakes, _Tal-Vashoth._ Remember,” Gatt said, climbing on the window.

“Why don't you tell that to Krem and the others, Gatt?”

Gatt turned and smiled, sharp like a razor. “You think they didn't known you'd give the easier outpost to your precious Bull's Chargers?” he asked.

And then he dropped.

At the same time, Bull screamed, running towards the window. “GET. OUT!” he shouted.

Lavellan held his breath. Bull looked like he was about to jump out of the window to give chase to Gatt, tight fists, pained expression.

Then, Bull threw his fist against the wall, roaring once more.

Lavellan – who stood there, frozen down to his bones – was startled by the sudden loud sound. He inched closer. Two steps and Bull stilled, took another breath and hid his face against his hands.

“Should've done that long ago,” he exhaled, heavy and tired.

Steps filled the silence – Leliana's agents broke in in seconds, weapon drawn and ready to strike.

Lavellan halted them with his hand.

“Master Lavellan?” one asked.

“Leave us. Take the body,” Lavellan said, pointing at the elf corpse.

“But Sister Nightingale . . .”

“I'll answer to her. Now leave – and that's an order,” Lavellan insisted.

The agents went silent, looking one another and then nodding. They lifted the body and exited the room quietly, leaving Lavellan and the Iron Bull alone.

Bull still hadn't moved, but the wound on his back was nothing but negligible.

Lavellan walked to his drawer, opened it and took a healing potion. He then turned towards Bull, stretching his arm in his direction.

“Drink it,” he said – and it felt like talking to a wall.

Unheard.

Minutes passed and Lavellan's arm started aching – still, he didn't give up. His hand was shaking and he felt like the flask was about to fall from his grip.

Then, the Iron Bull faced him without looking Lavellan in the eyes.

He reached for Lavellan's hand and kept it inside his own – warm, rough.

Lavellan wasn't sure what he wanted – part of him was only waiting for something like this, a touch, of every sort. The other part was suspicious, cautious.

“Are you afraid?” Bull asked – his voice was low, soft.

Lavellan swore he could hear sorrow.

He shook his head.

Bull laughed. “You are a weird elf, boss.”

Lavellan didn't smile, couldn't really right now. “I wonder why,” he said.

“What now, boss?” Bull asked. “Do I go back to my cell?”

Lavellan stared at him. Right, what now? “No. No . . . I- I don't . . .” he took a deep breath. He withdrew his hand, leaving only the healing potion in Bull's hands.

 _What now, Lavellan?,_ he thought.

Bull was looking at him, silent – waiting. The qunari was always too good at understanding him. Sometimes it was infuriating how much it was easy for the Iron Bull to read him.

“I made my decision – what I really want, this time,” Bull said.

Lavellan nodded. “Alright,” he said – and kept nodding. “Alright.”

Bull drank his potion, closing his eye and breathing when his wounds healed – relieved. Still, he waited.

“You're free to go,” Lavellan said – he could taste bitterness in his mouth and feel a knot in his throat. He didn't really want to know what would've done Bull.

He was scared Bull wanted to leave – or stay.

Bull hesitated and then inched closer, stopping when Lavellan's body reacted and tensed – fear rushing and adrenaline wearing out.

“I don't think I can stay, not like this. Your mind might know, but your body is still afraid – and I can't make that right like this,” Bull said.

Lavellan nodded – though he wasn't really sure why.

“Hey.”

Lavellan raised his eyes.

“I want to, though,” Bull said. “If that's what you want.”

Lavellan was slow to answer. His face screwed up before he could nod one more time. He almost felt like a broken cog. “Yeah, I'd like that,” he said.

Bull breathed, lighting up a bit and inching closer again – he was asking for permission, Lavellan knew better. He was careful, always been. “Kadan, can I hold you?” he asked.

Lavellan let go – he didn't really reply to Bull's question. He only knew he wasn't holding himself upright anymore. A second and his hand was holding onto the Iron Bull's side, clinging almost painfully, while the qunari embraced him and soothed away his sobs with caresses and soft words.

For a moment, Lavellan almost felt like the Iron Bull was back – as his whole self, before the Chargers died.

* * *

Leliana was reluctant to leave Bull free, especially inside the mansion. Lavellan reached a compromise allowing her agents to follow him everywhere he went. They weren't noisy or bulky, they stayed away and let Lavellan his own privacy.

Whenever Lavellan met with Bull, almost ten agents put their hands on their weapons.

It took Lavellan weeks to convince Leliana of Bull's intentions – and she still needed Cole's help to prove it. The Iron Bull wasn't happy to let Compassion wander his thoughts, even less to let Leliana know about them. Still, he didn't oppose – only complained for a bit.

Cole was thorough – as thorough as his gift could allow him.

“ _Hopeful, tentative, it comes out on the many ways. There're rights and lefts, ups and downs. Where and when. Kadan. Waiting, wanting, hoping. He let me hold him – warm, shaking, fear and suspicion. I can make things right, I can make them right.”_

It was difficult to understand everything, sometimes, but eventually – if Bull felt like it – he'd explain to them until Leliana was enough satisfied.

Lavellan found out a new side of Leliana's character, something far more protective than he'd imagine. He liked Leliana and the feeling was mutual – apparently. When her duties as Divine Victoria didn't take her far away, she would play chess with him or plan the next move of what remained of the Inquisition to stop Fen'harel.

Everything moved slowly during those weeks – by time to time, Sera would show up and make a mess. First time she found Bull outside his cell, free to wander the mansion, she freaked out and almost shoot him. Then, when the agents stopped her, she made sure he knew perfectly how much she hated him.

“I dunno what he finds in people like you, arse. Like that Blackwall guy, tch. If 'twas up to me, you'd be rottin' in the friggin' cell, believe me – like that Blackwall . . . Ranier, whatever his name is now, guy. _That's_ what people like you deserve, innit?” was the last thing she said, before Lavellan arrived to greet and stop her. Then, they left on another Red Jenny “mission”.

Now, Lavellan was back with a bunch of bruises and an ugly cut on his cheek not even the health potions could fix. Vivienne had offered to check it out with magic, but Lavellan refused.

He kinda liked the scar – and it reminded him of the good fight he had with Sera by his side. Strangely, he missed the times when they would travel all over Orlais and Ferelden, fighting demons and Venatori.

He found Bull in the kitchen, eating some roasted nug. Bull turned when Lavellan sit on the central table, grabbing the first thing he could find and eating it – dragonthorn cookies, apparently. He was _so_ hungry.

“What's that?” Bull asked, mouth full of food.

Lavellan grimaced when he opened his mouth. “A bodyguard, he tried to decapitate me before I reached his employer. Not my best work,” he said, sighing.

“I mean, why do you still have it,” Bull said.

“Well, it was fun – and the healing potion didn't really work. I don't want to go to Val Royeaux just so Vivienne won't be offended by my scarred face next time we meet – _if_ we ever meet,” Lavellan said.

Bull smiled, but didn't reply. He just kept staring at Lavellan as if the elf just said something funny.

“What?” Lavellan asked, eventually.

“Nothing, you just went back to talking a lot,” Bull said – still smiling.

Lavellan hesitated at that, before smirking a little bit. “Are you saying I talk too much?” he asked.

Bull almost choked on his food and Lavellan allowed himself to laugh softly.

“I was _trying_ to say that-”

“I know, Bull, thank you,” Lavellan interrupted.

Bull inched closer. They had time to practice, to learn how to be around each other all over again. It wasn't easy. Bull still couldn't shake the feeling that he betrayed more than Lavellan's trust, that it was his fault this time, if things were complicated. And everyone knew the Iron Bull didn't like complicated, or drama.

Lavellan, on his side, was still fighting against his instinct and everything Leliana said about how he shouldn't trust the qunari again.

It was complicated and sometimes painful. Only a few days ago, Lavellan woke up in the middle of the night, unable to rest, unable to stop thinking. Unable to move without being followed by Leliana's agents.

So he used his powder to slip again into the shadows and sneak out of his room, only to knock on Bull's door and mumbling non-sense when he asked what was wrong.

They slept together, clinging one to another, until Leliana's agents stormed the Iron Bull's room looking for him – and almost became bright red when they found out Lavellan was sleeping next to the qunari, untouched and safe.

Leliana loosened her grip on Bull after that. Although she still forced Lavellan into another Talk about the whole thing.

“I only hope you're right,” she said, before closing the door and leaving Lavellan to his papers.

“Y'know, you need a bath,” Bull said. He was moving close to Lavellan, bringing the elf back to reality. The, all of sudden, he stopped and raised his head. “Thought I'd never say that,” he added – something similar to shock in his voice.

Lavellan snorted. “Do I smell so bad?” he asked, sniffing his own clothes.

“Dried blood never smells good – you probably can't taste it because it fucked up your nose,” Bull explained, shaking his head. “And I could give you a nice massage.”

Lavellan raised an eyebrow. “Since when you know massage?”

Bull chuckled. “An Antivan elf-guy came by when you were away,” he said. “Let's just say he took pity on me and decided to help me out.”

“With a massage,” Lavellan said drily.

“Yes. I mean, no! He recommended some- eh, doesn't sound better,” Bull said, scratching his head with a hand.

Lavellan snorted, shifting so he could drop down the table. “Alright, Bull, let's see what you got.”

* * *

Apparently, Bull had been planning while Lavellan was away. Lavellan didn't really know how, but Bull convinced Leliana to let him free to prepare Lavellan's room for a hot bath. When he wasn't working out – “I'm out of shape, boss, those muscles won't flex alone!” – the qunari tried to find an alternative to the Bull's Chargers.

Now, Lavellan smelled of some herbal mixture, which was also supposed to loosen his muscles and help him relax. Bull was waiting inside the room, separated by an orlesian folding screen. It was made out of dark wood, thin where its design carved geometric hollow patterns. It allowed Lavellan to see the rest of the room only by shapes, and not in its integrity.

He could spy Bull standing in front of his drawer, looking down. They'd been silent for a bit, now. Neither of them disliked the silence, but Lavellan found himself reading way too much into whatever Bull'd been up to. So he broke the silence once more.

“I guess I'm done,” he said, straightening his posture so he could stand up and reach for his bath towel.

“Well, let's get you dry and comfortable then,” he heard Bull say behind him.

Using a towel was difficult with only one hand now. The most difficult part was getting used to the ghost his forearm and hand left, as much as asking for help with such simple tasks.

He usually had a servant who'd do this for him – this night, Bull offered to take her place.

He waited for Bull, kept his towel in front of him and turned when the Iron Bull took it, spreading it so he could wrap Lavellan's shoulders and body in it. Then, Bull helped him lowering the towel just under Lavellan's arm, so he could hold it while Bull massaged him.

Bull's hands were usually rough – callous due to his two-handed weapon choice and intense training, – but in times like this, Lavellan remembered how delicate and thoughtful they could be. The Iron Bull warned him he could be too much to take, for anyone – tried to say there would've never been actual tact in whatever they were sharing.

Lavellan didn't really care, the first times. He was just satisfied Bull gave something he could distract himself with. Then, time passed – more importantly, the nacklace of the kadan happened – and Bull started showing something more than his toughness.

Bull's fingers lingered on Lavellan's arms, tracing the delicate lines of muscles. Elves' musculature had so much more delicate traits than humans' or qunari's. They were slim, even though some of them preferred heavy weapons, most were natural talents with daggers and magic.

The Iron Bull reached for Lavellan's shoulders, resting his palms on them, curling his fingers and moving his thumbs to trace circles on Lavellan's trapezia. The movement was not entirely pleasant, but Bull told him it needed to hurt a little bit too to be effective.

Lavellan closed his eyes, let Bull take care of his tense shoulders, undoing knots and bringing some heavy sighs when he moved in particular places.

“I'm so proud of you, y'know?” Bull asked, voice soft and warm.

Lavellan opened his eyes again, holding his breath. “Mh?”

Bull let out a short-lived soft laugh. “You know where you end and where I need to stop – didn't fake it and let me understand it when it'd be too late,” Bull said. “You see, 'katoh' is just a small part of how it really works. You shouldn't expect me to stop only when we're having sex. I should always stop when I'm hurting you – and you . . . you showed me that, always.”

Lavellan kept silent for a long moment. He really didn't know what to say. His mind was floating on peaceful nothingness. Whatever was in those herbs, it worked. He felt calm and relaxed.

“Gives me some confidence, that you will know and tell me when I need to stop. That you won't just accept everything,” Bull continued. He, too, sounded relaxed – his voice was soothing, in a way. Always have been. “I can trust you're gonna stop me.”

Lavellan turned, his only hand busy holding the towel up his sides. “And everyone thinks you're the one in charge, huh?” he asked, smiling.

Bull chuckled, lifted his hand so he could frame Lavellan's face with them. “Well, it's not like it's my fault if people assume _things,_ right?”

Lavellan snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Bull kept staring at him – and Lavellan was never the shy type, but he lowered his gaze. Bull's eye felt like too much, all of sudden. It almost felt like nothing changed – as if they never left Skyhold's rooms.

“Look at me, kadan,” Bull said. His tone was calm but firm, Lavellan knew what that tone meant – as well as his body.

He looked at Bull – and Bull's hand helped him by raising his chin, keeping it there, as if he had to pose for some other painters who wanted portraits for posterity.

“You're gonna let me take care of you, won't you?” Bull asked.

Lavellan closed his eyes and tried to nod – only to find Bull's hand to block his movement. So words, then, that's what Bull wanted. “Yes.”

Bull let out a breath – the ones only smiles could let out.

The first thing Lavellan felt was Bull's breath, then his lips – hot and dry, tracing his own. He let Bull play for a bit – biting, licking. It was intimate, tentative – as if they've never done it before.

Bull has never been clumsy, but the way he keep it slow and easy was comforting for Lavellan. He didn't know how he'd react if Bull acted like their first time – pinning him against the wall with a warning, instead of a request.

The Iron Bull let his hands wander, palming and caressing Lavellan's sides over the towel – he pulled then, forcing Lavellan to move closer, until their bodies touched. With each passed second, the kiss grew deeper, hungrier.

All the time Lavellan had forced himself not to think about this very moment was now letting his presence known and suffered. He didn't need Bull to know he was touch-starved.

Another few moments and he gave up on holding his towel. The only hand he had and he couldn't even use it to touch Bull's ripped and solid body. The towel wasn't really that important.

He heard Bull soft laugh against his lips when the towel hit their feet. Lavellan nudged at Bull's chest with his hand, then, biting hard on Bull's lower lip. Bull was startled, but he answered without complaint.

Big hands crossed Lavellan's sides, grabbing him with a solid grip and moving them closer.

Bull took his time to explore and make his everything that already was there. He avoided carefully Lavellan's right arm, still unsure of what to do and clearly leaving the decision to Lavellan himself.

The only time they parted way was only when Bull traced his lips down Lavellan's jaw, along his neck, sucking and biting and licking. Bull's hot breath shook shivers down Lavellan's spine and, eventually, the qunari left angry marks on Lavellan's amber skin.

Lavellan held his breath when Bull's hand cupped his ass, squeezing hard. Lavellan let out a heavy sigh, right before his legs became weak. He grabbed onto Bull shoulder, biting hard on his neck – and Bull moaned, low and deep, right beside Lavellan's ear.

“Fuck, kadan,” Bull breathed, sliding one of his hands so he could wrap it around Lavellan's length.

Lavellan was already half-hard when Bull started rhythmically stroking him.

“Bull,” Lavellan called, a desperate note in his voice. “Bull you're still dressed, you ass.”

Bull laughed and then his hand was gone, replaced by nothing but cold. Lavellan grimaced, but didn't say anything, opened his eyes only to see the Iron Bull undoing his pants and letting them fall on the carpet.

Lavellan focused on the hide strings on Bull's chest, the ones which kept his single shoulder pad on. His hand slipped a bunch of times trying to loosen the leather from its buckle. It was difficult and another reminder of how much Lavellan was unable to complete daily tasks such as this one.

Lavellan grumbled after the third attempt, but kept trying.

“Kadan,” Bull called.

Lavellan ignored him. “I just want to-”

“Kadan, it's okay,” Bull said, resting his hand on Lavellan's.

Lavellan complained, tried to move but Bull's grip wouldn't let him go. He let out an annoyed sound, eyebrows knotting, and then stopped. “I hate this,” he said, eventually.

“I know, it sucks,” he agreed, before moving his hand on the buckle, undoing his belt. “We just need to find something less difficult and equally hot,” he added – a soft smile on his face.

“At least I'm still able to do this . . .” Lavellan said, reaching for Bull's eyepatch. Undoing the knots was easier – still long, but at least he didn't have as much problems as with the belts.

Once Bull's face was completely visible, Lavellan couldn't hold but to smile. “Hey there,” he said.

Bull returned the smile. “Hey there,” he said, before stepping closer once again. His half-hard dick brushed against Lavellan's lower belly. Lavellan felt his smile assuming some more wicked shade, when the Iron Bull grabbed him by the ankles just so their bodies could touch as much as they could.

“Now, where were we?” Bull said.

Lavellan was about to reply, when Bull's hand lifted him by his thighs, forcing Lavellan to open his legs and hold onto Bull so he wouldn't fall.

Bull carried him behind the folding panel, right on the bed. He almost let Lavellan's body fall on it, if only his hands didn't make sure it was controlled, safe.

Lavellan let out a soft laugh – a short-lived one – when Bull moved him again so they could both fit on Lavellan's bed.

Bull crawled right between Lavellan's legs, leaving hot kisses and playful bites on his thighs and then belly, up to his throat, before kissing the elf with enthusiasm. His hands were on Lavellan's body once again, one exploring his side while the other held both their dicks together – Bull's hips rocking back and forth.

Lavellan choked a moan on Bull's mouth, tightening his grip on his shoulder.

“What do you want?” Bull asked, as soon as the kiss stopped.

“You,” Lavellan breathed after a bit. It was hard to concentrate when his whole body was begging for more – touch, heat, friction, everything Bull would give to him. Lavellan would've accepted anything.

Bull laughed. “You already have that,” he said.

Lavellan groaned. “Maker's breath, I want you to- _fuck,_ stop being an ass.”

Bull laughed even louder – and Lavellan couldn't really stop himself from joining the qunari. He missed the easiness, the simplicity.

They kissed again, lazy hips rocking every now and then, until every hint of fun had left the place to hot and short breaths.

Bull parted from Lavellan only to leave some – a lot of – hickeys down his neck, on his collarbone and then down, to his lower belly. Bull's kisses were open-mouthed – he liked to scrap his teeth against the skin, making it crawl. He liked to tease Lavellan with slow movements – the closer Bull was to Lavellan's dick, the slower he became.

It felt like hours passed, before Lavellan could feel Bull's mouth on him, kissing and licking, and then taking his whole length.

“ _Fuck,”_ Lavellan breathed, eyes suddenly open.

Bull's head was slowly rocking his head up and down, sucking and making sure the tip of Lavellan's dick could hit the back of Bull's throat every once in a while.

Bull moaned against Lavellan's erection when the elf grabbed the back of his head, giving him direction. Strong hands were keeping Lavellan's hips still, so he couldn't thrust into Bull's mouth – forcing him to follow Bull's rhythm, instead of his own.

Bull was thorough in everything he did – he didn't speed up, neither slow down. It was just enough to tear low moans out of Lavellan's mouth, but not sufficient to bring him close to any climax.

Then, one of Bull's hands moved – reaching on the bed for what looked like a flask of dark oil. Lavellan didn't really pay attention to his surroundings, so he just noticed it when Bull took it. The flask had probably been there from when he took his bath.

Bull emerged from between Lavellan's thighs – winning an aroused groan from the elf. “I know I promised a massage, but I _really_ wanna fuck you, kadan.”

Lavellan's skin crawled with anticipation. He had strong and clear memories of what was like to be pinned down by Bull, pounded and filled with Bull's cock – even though Bull could never really use his whole strength on Lavellan – until he only remembered how to beg Bull's name. The more he thought about it, the less it sounded like a good idea – the more distance he put between himself and that part of him. He didn't want mindless sex.

It was unusual, but he liked Bull's delicate and thoughtful side. Right now, anything more than that felt unbearable – wrong. Lavellan wasn't looking for mindless sex this time – he wanted something _more_. Something Bull didn't really do most of the time.

Lavellan hesitated. Then, he swallowed hard and held his breath, “Can we keep it simple?”

Bull's expression softened, as he cracked a smile. “Of course we can,” he said.

Relief overwhelmed him – he knew it was silly, but he felt cherished, cared for. As if all the bad things never really happened. He wanted to open his mouth, say something, but Bull didn't let him speak.

“Breathe for me, kadan,” Bull said, his hand now on Lavellan's face with soft caresses – careful to avoid the scarred tissue.

Lavellan had to think about it, to force his mouth open and breathe in – he didn't even realize he was still holding his breath.

“Yeah, just like that. Do you want to slow things down?” Bull asked and then laughed when Lavellan hastily shook his head. “Okay, then can you open your legs a bit more? I want them on my shoulders.”

Lavellan did as he asked, let Bull move his legs for him and arched his back, when it was clear Bull was too high for him.

Bull poured some of the flask liquid on his hand, then, closing it and then settling himself so he could kneel between Lavellan's legs. His mouth was on Lavellan's dick once more when Lavellan felt Bull's index finger circling his entrance.

Bull liked to play and tease – sucking Lavellan and stretching his hole at different rhythms. So when Lavellan moans grew more frantic and strong, Bull would slow down and wait for Lavellan to cool off – and complain for the first minutes.

“Don't you dare touch yourself,” was the only order Bull gave him during the whole night, when his second finger slid in and his lips had long stopped torturing Lavellan's hard dick, just sporadically lick its whole length.

Lavellan had to bit down a cry when Bull curled his fingers against his prostate. “I'm gonna _hit you,”_ he groaned.

Bull let out a low growl against his dick, something that still resembled a chuckle. And then he lifted his head, “You know that turns me on.”

Lavellan slapped his own face with his hand, falling back on the bed and shaking when Bull brushed his prostate again, scissoring his fingers and fucking him with them. He mentally cursed Bull, who was clearly taking his time to work him open – smiling and murmuring soft, comforting words every now and then.

Lavellan's consciousness was slipping when Bull pushed a third finger and then curled it, sending shocks of pleasure and placid discomfort through Lavellan's oversensitive body.

“ _Fenedhis lasa—_ . . . _Bull,”_ Lavellan whined.

Bull chuckled, dark and low, still far away from stopping. “Y'know, boss, you're hot when you speak Elven.”

“You want me to beg you, don't you? _Fuck,_ that's- that's what you want, isn't it?” Lavellan said.

Bull shrugged. “Never hurt anyone.”

Lavellan could hear Bull's smile in his voice – he _knew_ Bull was enjoying himself, deep down.

Bull brushed once again against his prostate.

Lavellan hissed – his body tensed with a spasm, his hand grabbed the sheets so hard he almost hurt himself. “Please- _sathan,_ Bull! _Sathan!”_

Bull growled and crawled back on Lavellan's body – so Lavellan's leg could now tighten their grip on his sides – he then hastily stroke himself with his free hand, kissing Lavellan pouring some more of the flask's oil on his dick and settling between his thighs. Lavellan deepened the kiss, possessive hands betraying his hunger and arousal, licking and biting – and he moaned when he could taste himself on Bull's tongue. Then, the only warning Lavellan had was Bull's weight shifting on him and the pressure from the hard tip of his cock.

Bull carefully pushed inside Lavellan. Lavellan smothered a moan against Bull's mouth, tensing around him and then focusing on his breathing – as difficult as it was to keep his concentration. When Bull thrusted one last time, until every inch of his erection was deep down inside him, Lavellan had to bit down on his lips not to cry out once more. Bull was big and throbbing inside him – the only reason Lavellan wasn't in more distress was because Bull had patiently worked him open.

Bull groaned. “Fuck, kadan, you feel so good,” he breathed against Lavellan's ear, kissing his temples and pressing one hand against Lavellan's head, fingers between his hair, while the other kept Lavellan's ankle in place.

“Breathe for me, kadan,” Bull said, rocking gently inside Lavellan, giving him time to adjust and relax. “Like that, yeah, just like that,” Bull kept touching him, cradling him as if he was lost somewhere. “Gonna take good care of you, I promise.” Then, a pause. “Talk to me, kadan – you still with me?” he asked.

Lavellan had to concentrate – had to focus on Bull's face – before he could actually reply to him.

A simple nod, followed by a “Yes.”

Bull kissed his cheekbone. “Good. You know what to say if you want me to stop, remember? Say it for me, kadan.”

“Katoh,” Lavellan breathed, his legs tightening around Bull's sides as he tried to match Bull's gentle movements.

“That's right,” Bull said, settling so he wouldn't crush Lavellan with his whole weight. “I'm so proud of you.”

“Bull,” Lavellan moaned. “Please.”

“Shush, I know,” Bull said and then kissed him once more – open-mouthed, hot and feverish.

Lavellan held onto Bull shoulder as much as he could, while the Iron Bull thrusts settled for something rhythmic – full and rounded movements. Lavellan moaned against Bull's mouth when Bull's hit his prostate – felt almost like melting right inside Bull's arm. And Bull's hands didn't stop for one bit, until he wrapped one of them around Lavellan, stroking his whole length.

Lavellan's mind broke into a thousand pieces. Everything slipped away, drowned inside pure bliss and hot flesh. He knew why he missed these exact moments, where he was nothing but Rahea Lavellan. Not the Inquisitor, not his Worship, not the Herald of Andraste.

Bull's lips tasted of bitter alcohol – who knew what the Iron Bull drank these days, whenever he could – and some more herbal notes. He was hot and covered in sweat, just as Lavellan was.

All Lavellan could hear were moans and the rhythmic sound of flesh smacking against more flesh. The longer they went, the more frantic Bull's movements became.

He only heard Bull call his name, encouraging him to chase down his own release. Lavellan tensed, tasting and feeling his own orgasm closer every time Bull drove back inside him. His abdomen contracted and Bull's hand was moving mercilessly on his dick, causing him more confusion than ever.

He came with Bull's name on his lips, muscles tensing around Bull's length. His breath caught and his body arched. Sweat and semen mixing up right on his belly.

“ _Kaas,_ kadan!” he heard Bull cry out, his hand still stroking him, although with less firmness now.

Bull thrusts were now fast and hard. He let go of Lavellan's dick in favour of his ankles, grabbing them so Lavellan could meet his movements better.

A low growl filled Lavellan's ears when Bull came after a few more thrusts. He didn't stop – he kept rocking through all his orgasm – slowing down and filling Lavellan until there were no empty spaces.

Then, Bull dropped on Lavellan – still holding himself so he wouldn't crush the elf. They were both breathing hard against each other, hot and covered in sweat.

Lavellan's leg felt like cramping up, so he lowered them as soon as the Iron Bull slipped outside him and rolled on his side.

They stared at each other with tired satisfaction, until Bull broke away so he could massage Lavellan's legs.

Lavellan groaned.

“Thanks,” he found the strength to say after a bit.

“Anytime, boss,” Bull joked, laying down right next to him.

Lavellan closed his eyes, letting the warm dizziness cradling him.

“Oh no, you don't,” Bull said, jumping on the bed and startling him. When Lavellan looked at him with confusion, he laughed. “You're gonna fall asleep in no time – and then you get all cranky on me if I wake you up because _someone_ has to clean up.”

Lavellan snorted. “That's not true.”

Bull raised an eyebrow.

Lavellan sighed. “Come on. I'm really tired,” he said.

Bull laughed, kissing him softly. “Alright, guess we can wait for a bit.”

Lavellan curled up right next to him, using Bull's arm as a cushion. They stayed like that for a bit, before he spoke.

“Are we good, Bull?” he asked.

Bull shored up with his elbow, looking for Lavellan's eyes. “As good as we can be, kadan,” he said. “It's gonna be hard, but I wanna make this right – and I wanna make it up to you.”

Lavellan snorted. “All on me, then?”

“Us. All on us, if you want,” Bull said. “I don't like easy, I like simple. And this _is_ simple. I betrayed your trust and now I have to win it back.”

“With sex.”

Bull laughed. “Why not, if I weren't so good at killing things, this would be the number one.”

Lavellan smiled, averted his eyes on the rest of the room.

“Hey,” Bull said, his hand traced Lavellan's jaw until Bull reached his chin. There, he pulled a bit. “I meant it.”

“I know,” Lavellan said. “And I still want this.”

Bull returned the smile and leaned in to kiss him. They exchanged lazy and deep kisses, together with small chats when anything would come up to their mind.

It was simple and intimate – as well as when, cleaned and worn out, Lavellan curled up against Bull. The last thing Lavellan remembered was Bull moving so he could cover them with soft and warm blankets, wishing him a good night.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> HIYA, as always, thank you for reading the whole thing - of until you could(?). Kudos win a smile, comments win a whole freak out and an excited reply prolly - cough. If you have any suggestions on how I could improve my English, please feel free to let me know in the comments!  
> 
> 
> I'll put down below the translation from some of the sentences in Elven and Qunlat, since not all of them were explained. And if you're curious, go check out [ar-lath-ma-vhenan](http://ar-lath-ma-vhenan.tumblr.com/) who basically did an amazing job.  
>  Other projects are [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848/chapters/8237548), [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3553883/chapters/7825850), [here](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1M4hVCUbdo9rGv24eeh78CTLp9zOHkFkl0rLUqWfm7E0/edit#gid=919031193) and [here](http://lingojam.com/ElvenDAI). Check them out because it's insane the amount of work that went into this.  
>    
>  **Elven:**  
>  1 _Dirthara ma_ = May you learn  
>  2 _Ar isalan na_ = I need you 
> 
> Qunlat was a difficult one, and since there wasn't one, I had to imagine the only curse I needed to end the whole thing. Qunlat too has a [translator online](http://lingojam.com/DragonAge:QunlatTranslator), which is amazing and insane.  
>    
>  **Qunlat:**  
>  1 _Kaas_ = Fuck


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